Page 7 of Snow Bound

His eyes flickered. “Things got complicated.”

“I’m sure.” She wanted to sneer, but she couldn’t quite manage it. His fingers were wrapped firmly around her wrists, holding her in place but not hurting her, and dammit, it was turning her on.

Since that was the last thing she wanted she yanked against his grip, trying to pull free. His fingers tightened warningly. “Don’t move.”

“Asshole. Let me go.”

“If you don’t shut up I’m going to gag you.”

That threat did not help her trying-not-to-be-turned-on situation. She hid her inconvenient arousal behind a sneer. “Don’t you dare.”

“I didn’t ghost you,” he repeated, scowling. “Dammit, stop wiggling.”

She ignored the order and kept writhing, trying to twist out of his grip. “Fuck you.”

“You brought this on yourself,” he warned and leaned his full weight against her, pinning her between the sink and his big body, and too late she saw her mistake.

She had been doing a pretty good job ignoring his hands on her wrists, but there was no way she could ignore this. He was pressed against her from breast to thigh, not a whisper between them, and the hard, heavy weight of him went to her head like a shot of whiskey on an empty stomach.

“I can’t breathe,” she accused. The words came out breathless, lending credence to the claim. He didn’t have to know it was because she was horny.

“You’re breathing just fine,” he countered. “Are you going to listen or not?”

She bucked, trying to shove him back. He shifted, and sensing victory, she struggled harder. Then he leaned back into her, his thick thighs wedged between hers, and she found herself dangling off the floor, his hips pinning her to the sink. Shocked, she froze.

He was hard, and oh God, she could feel…everything.

He didn’t seem to notice—or if he did, he was much better at ignoring it than she was. He was still scowling, disapproval and exasperation in his expression with no hint of lust, and for a brief, wild moment she wondered if she was imagining the erection jammed between her thighs.

“Well?” he demanded.

“Well, what?” she managed, trying not to wiggle on his dick. It was difficult, because it was right there, thick and hard and covered in rough denim that was like delightful, delicious sandpaper through the thin barrier of her t-shirt, so not wiggling was taking all of her concentration.

“Are you going to listen?”

Oh, right—he was still trying to plead his case. “It doesn’t look like I’m going anywhere,” she said, attempting another sneer. It didn’t have much on it—she was having a hard time remembering why she was pissed at him.

He clenched his jaw, pleasing her. Why should she be the only one annoyed? “I did have a work emergency. I was stuck in Istanbul for three weeks.”

That got her attention. “Istanbul?”

“Turkey,” he explained.

“I know where Istanbul is,” she snapped, forgetting about his dick for a moment. “What the hell were you doing there?”

“It’s complicated,” he hedged.

“Oh, complicated,” she drawled, dripping sarcasm. “Well, that explains everything!”

“I work for a security company,” he ground out through clenched teeth.

“Uh-huh.”

He ignored that. “We provide, among other things, personal security.”

“So you’re what, a bodyguard?”

“When necessary, yes.”

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